Twist in Time
by fireflyjunction
Summary: AU. When band of gypsies find an abandoned slave trader's wagon, the girls inside near frozen, will the masked outsider heal or harm?
1. Cold Death

_**Author's Note: **Oh, where do I begin? This story never could have happened but it's driving me insane, so I had to write it down. If you've read Kay, this would be set sometime after Erik escaped Persia and toured the Orient but before he decided to settle down and build things. Secondly, I do realize that at this point in the original story Christine would be way to young for him, if she were born at all, so for the sake of my story I have made her about the same age now as she was then. Yeah, I could have just created a new character, but Mary Sues are annoying to write, and I like writing about interactions between Erik and Christine. Lastly, all I can say is just go along with whatever happens and have faith that I know what I'm doing. _

_PS – (XXXXXX)'s signal's switching POV in here. Just thought I'd warn you to avoid confusion. _

_**Disclaimer: **If you don't recognize them, they're mine, and people with lots of money already own anybody else._

"_Hell is more than half of Paradise." Edwin Arlington Robinson_

Christine's POV 

My heavy eyes slowly opened as the rough wagon lurched to a halt to reveal a blurry world of white, sending searing pain my pounding head. With a slight whimper, I immediately clamped them tightly shut as another wave of nausea swept through me, fearing the beating that would follow should I become ill again. Fighting the sickness I curled closer into myself, seeking any welcoming warmth to ward off the freezing chill of the blizzard. Dimly I registered that my two captors were arguing again but after enduring several such fights I lacked to will to care. I listened instead to the screaming wind that dug its icy nails into my bones, wishing I would die. And then suddenly the world exploded, again and again.

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Bera lurched up with a start. Three gunshots pierced through the howling wind and for a moment echoed through the trees, the signal for help. _If they're lost in this blizzard_, he thought grimly, _they'd need all the help they can get._ Stepping out of his cozy tent, he could barely see his wagon through the swirling flakes though it sat not ten feet away. It was nearly impossible to determine which direction the shots had come from but a search party would have to be sent out. Sighing deeply, he watched as the puff of steam left his lips before being swallowed by the storm, then, squaring his shoulders, marched into the blinding whiteness to gather the others for the search.

"Over here!" he called out, not an hour later, as he stared down at the bodies of the two men before him. Half frozen already, their blood staining the crisp snow, it was clear the men had slain each other. One man clutched an old shotgun while the other held a shiny pistol and a gleaming hunting knife laid beside him.

"You found them?" one of the men shouted back as he and the others followed the sound towards the little valley where he stood beside the dead.

"Yes," he shouted back as the men crested the hill and looked down on the scene. "They're dead, looks like they shot each other, though one's got a good knife on him."

"Anything worth saving in the wagon?" another shouted as they cautiously climbed down the hill. Bera started, as if noticing it for the first time. It was a sad sight, old and worn, with one wheel stuck in the ditch beside the road. Still harnessed to it, an old grey pony stood, head lowered nearly to its knees. Walking closer, he could see the peeling paint on the sides and the stretched and faded canvas covering looked ready to collapse under the weight of the snow, which piled higher even as he approached. Unable to see anything from the front he carefully made his way around to the back, where the loose flaps where fluttering madly in the hellish wind. Lift them out of the way he leaned closer, trying to see anything in the shadows within the wagon. As his snow-blinded eyes slowly adjusted to the soothing darkness, he felt his heart lurch to his throat at what lay inside.

"God have mercy…" he whispered.

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Christine's POV 

_Strange voices…_, I thought numbly, my freezing body nearly incapable of rational thought as I drifted back from the edge of nothingness. _Voices on the wind…_Eyes still closed I sensed the shadow that loomed before the opening, blocking the painful light. Drawing upon the last of my strength, every so slowly I raised my heavy head and, struggling to pry open my icy lashes, found myself staring at the weathered face of a stranger. He looked straight through me for a moment, as if he didn't see me. "Help us…," I managed to painfully croak, before slipping deeply into oblivion.

_**AN:** Everybody still with me? Didn't really want to cut chapters here but it just seemed like a good place to stop. It must be the cliffhanger-lover in me! _


	2. White Knight

_**Author's Note:** Well, here is chapter two, just for you! Don't forget to review! _

_**Disclaimer: **This is so great! I own the majority of people in this chapter! Don't own Christine though…Rats!_

"I expect to pass through this world but once; any good thing therefore that I can do, or any kindness that I can show to any fellow creature, let me do it now, let me not defer or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again." Ettiene De Grellet

Though it seemed an eternity that he would never forget, everything was ready in less than twenty minutes but Bera still worried that it had taken too long. In the back of the crumbling wagon, he had found seven girls of varying ages smashed together in the tiny space, all were dying before his eyes. Bound hand and foot with rough rope, it was clear they had been headed for the auction block, after which their new masters would repeatedly rent them out to ever-eager customers. Biting back a curse, he quickly sent some of the men back to the camp for blankets and coats along with another wagon and horses.

The shabby pony whinnied softly as it's frozen harness was cut from the stranded wagon. It had done all it could for now, but with rest, it would make some child very happy. _Poor brute_, he thought sadly, as he rubbed its nose, trying to sooth the aging beast. Thankfully ,the other wagon arrived just as they had managed to pry the wagon from the icy water in the ditch and quickly harnessed the new horses to it. It wasn't until they began moving some of the girls to the other wagon that they realized how bad things really were.

They were all malnourished and not one had clothing appropriate for the weather. Of the seven, four were completely unconscious, including the girl who had spoken to him, her pale face nearly as white as the snow. The others were almost as bad and could barely respond to their rescuer's questions and reassurances. Smothering them in the blankets, the men climbed in with them, seeking to warm the cold wagons with their own warmth, and hurried to return to the camp, where the healer was waiting.

_Bastards_, he vehemently thought, as the wagons rushed by the two bodies that lay untouched in the snow. _May you burn in hell, for what you've done._

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO _

"Surely there must be something more we can do for them?" he whispered, watching the four girls sleep in the pale lantern light of Vadoma's tent. The other three rescued girls were awake and sipping broth in the gypsies' tents, and were expected to make full recoveries, but the four in the witch's care might not. The two dark ones and the redhead were achingly close to death, but the pale girl was feverish, fighting not only to reanimate her frozen body but against some illness as well. He remembered her blue eyes, softly glowing in dark hell of the wagon framed with icy lashes, her golden hair frozen in curly waves about her ashen face as she whispered to him for help. God forbid that her desperate plea should be her last words.

"It is their choice now, to stay or go, I can do no more fore them," the gypsy woman gently whispered back, nodding to the three silent sleepers. Turning to the fourth, who lay twitching gently, she continued. "But the Skychild fights and yet remains beyond my skill to heal."

"Then she is lost?" he asked, already mourning her, wishing he had found them sooner, that he had been able to do more himself.

"I cannot say. You must ask the Nightwalker for aid. He is her only hope for salvation." Turning her dark eyes on his, she quietly regarded him with her intense gaze for a moment. Fighting against his sudden panic, he sternly willed his gaze to remain steady before nodding once and marching back into the swirling snow, to seek the aid of the dark magician who haunted the edges of the camp.

_**AN:** So, any questions or comments? Make some up if you have to, just review!_


	3. Black Violin

_**Author's Notes**: You'd think that with such short chapters I could churn these things out a bit faster, but my muse is a perfectionist. My biggest problem was Erik's entrance. How do you introduce somebody like that?_

_Of course I am greatly indebted to CloudXInXCrimson for giving me some motivation to get going with this piece again. Are you happy now!_

_Also to Breanna Senese – read the book, gerfan – glad you like, and Brosia - I will NOT fall for my own trick, no matter how much you cry! Not a stalker, huh? We'll see…_

_**Disclaimer: **I don't own Erik or Christine but Vadoma and Bera and everybody else are mine!_

_"Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet." Jean Jacques Rousseau_

Vadoma watched as the brave young man set out, determined to return with the mysterious man who might be the only chance the Skychild had left. She wondered why he felt so strongly about the girl. She was nothing more than a stranger to him, and though very beautiful, there seemed to be nothing special about her. There were stories, of course, of men who fell in love after only a passing glance, but unless the girl were to be accepted into the clan, Bera's honor would keep them apart. With a sigh, she turned her attention back to the three girls who were slipping ever deeper into their world of dreamless sleep. No the Nightwalker could do nothing for them, she decided as she felt the shadow of death creep closer. They would never wake from this night, their first night of freedom in so long…

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His feet led him to the looming shadow of the tent. It was so different from their own humble homes with its strange shape and eccentric patterns woven in the exotic cloth. Its compelling aura of power befitted its enigmatic owner who resided within. He had arrived with the first deep snow, as the travelers settled into their winter haven to rest till spring fairs and festivals lured them on. When Colren, leader of the small band, had decided he must leave, Vadoma had swayed his decision, her mystic's knowledge still held power even as the modern way had begun to creep into their lives. Why she had allowed him to stay and why she now sought his aid, Bera did not know. But if this stranger were the only one who could save the life of the brave girl, he would do everything possible to gain his aid. Summoning his courage to him, he again marched forth through the deep snow, stopping only when his feet reached the entrance of the forbidding lair.

"Sir!" he shouted over the keening winds. "I have been sent by Vadoma. I seek your aid." He stood proudly and tall in the frozen world and waited for any reply. The swirling wind carried with it the faint strain of a haunting melody of a violin, which vanished into the night as quickly as it had appeared.

The tent flap snapped open, the sudden blinding light startling him enough to cause him to step back. Finding himself so close to the stranger left him wishing he had jumped back even farther. Though he had only met him once before, Bera had never forgotten the angry power the man possessed. He stood outlined in the brilliant light, dressed all in black, melting into the darkness of the night like a shadow. Yet his eyes burned golden as the moon, hidden behind the pale mask he wore. The mask was not the same as before, that mask had been quite black…

"Yes?" the magician whispered, his beautiful voice easily rising above the dying scream of the wind, drawing Bera's eyes back from the mask.

"There is a girl," he began, suddenly unsure as to what to say as the man's eyes glittered dangerously. "She will die if you do not help her."

A pause which stretched into forever filled the space between them as the man continued to stare at him, considered his words. "Tell them I will come," he whispered, before he turned with a sigh and retreated to his tent. Just as the entrance fell shut, Bera caught a glimpse of what lay inside. A thick Persian rug, a carved chair with a red cushion and a black violin.

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Dreams swirled through her fevered mind, memories merging and twisting together with fantasies to create endless kaleidoscopic visions. She fought against the lies in her head, desperate to forget their truths, which crept insistently into her aching soul. Writhing violently she suddenly froze as a poignant melody, carried by a strange wind entered the silent tent and lingered briefly beside her before vanishing like a sigh.

_**AN:** More Erik in the next chapter I promise! And I also promise to post the next chapter sooner that I did this one. (Of course promises don't really mean much to Erik, who is my muse so I'll just have to threaten him again…)_

_PLEASE REVIEW!_


	4. Night Music

**_Author's Note:_**_Bless all reviewers, great and small! Since there are not many of you, and the chapters are short, I feel free to take the time and space to say thanks to all of you individually so here we go:  
CloudxInxCrimson – Stop it with the finger waggling, I'm going as fast as I can!  
Gerfan – So when are we going to see some of your original work?  
Breanna Senese - I repeat, go read the book!  
Brosia - So my short chapters are torture? (Runs off to go tell Erik about wonderful new torture idea) P.S. bribery is highly effective  
Daewen98 - Welcome to the group! (Sighs as yet another voice is added to the small but determined mob outside chanting, "Update! Update!")_

_**Disclaimer:** I own the beginning and ending author's notes, the disclaimer, Bera and Vadoma so I guess that's something. Still, when you consider that I don't own Erik or Christine, it just doesn't seem quite right. _

_"The woods are lovely, dark and deep.  
But I have promises to keep,  
And miles to go before I sleep  
And miles to go before I sleep."_

_Robert Frost _

With a sigh, he reached for his cloak, wishing only to return to the heartrending music that had so suddenly ripped through his soul. Its painful beauty seemed to call to him from the darkness of the night itself, beckoning him to follow through the wild winter storm. Even now its echoes rippled endlessly across his mind. Yet the old gypsy woman had sent for him and the music would have to wait until he had repaid his debt. As his feet drifted into the starless night towards the healer's tent, it seemed as though the relentless refrain grew louder with ever step through the deepening snow.

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Vadoma glanced up as Bera appeared in the entrance of the healer's tent. He stood for a moment, adjusting his eyes to the flickering light. The room was heavy with the smoke of incense to sooth the souls of the three who were barely clinging to this world. She regarded him carefully, asking her silent questions, and he nodded silently before moving to stand beside where the girl lay.

"I wish I knew her name," he whispered softly as he smiled gently down at her. "I wish I knew who she is, and why she is here."

"She is here because you brought her here," The wise woman answered sagely. Bera glanced up at her as if he had forgotten she was there before nodding once again and turning back to the girl. "And she is who she is," she whispered a faraway look in her eyes. A faint breath of wind gently brushed past her face and she returned to this world with a frown. "You come at a grave time, Nightwalker."

Bera turned slowly around to see the dark man who had slipped in the tent silently as death itself and now stood, his burning eyes now locked onto the sleeping form of the girl. Her struggled breathing the only sound in the room as the three regarded one another. After a moment on tense silence, Bera stepped away and allowed the stranger to approach the girl.

Enshrouded in a midnight cloak, he seemed no less threatening within the gypsy women's tent but rather seemed to draw unseen power into himself. His white mask the only relief from the darkness he carried with him. As he bent down to examine the comatose girl, it caught the light strangely, almost as though the flames danced across his face.

He seemed to stare at her face for a long moment, listening to her uneven breathing, and watching as the sweat slowly trickled down her temples. With an unconscious grace he gently reached out and felt the gentle pulse at her throat. Seemingly satisfied he carefully moved his hand towards her face. As his hand past her lips, she sighed deeply. He froze instantly, his entire body going rigid at the touch of her soft breath upon his gloved hand. Bera watched cautiously as he forced himself to reach up and check her eyes, tenderly lifting each lid to inspect the pale jewels they hid.

When he was done, he stood and turned to the waiting gypsies. Deep in thought, he stared into the distance, occasionally nodding thoughtfully as though communicating with unheard spirits, his eyes hooded behind the mask. Finally he squared his shoulders, apparently ready to speak, when a gentle moan from across the room stopped him.

Moving quickly Vadoma rushed to the side of the redheaded girl but she had already left the world and entered into the night. Bowing her head solemnly over her chest, the older woman said a quick prayer for her soul before turning to the two men. "Death gathers for their souls. He will come quickly." She glanced to the two remaining sleepers who were slipping ever deeper into oblivion before turning her gaze to the other who still carried a spark of hope. "She must not remain here this night. She is not strong enough to fight the spirits. He will take her when he comes."

The silence in the room hung heavily for a heartbeat before the shadowy man with the burning eyes whispered, "He is here."

_**AN:** Well, my fabulous four, what do you think? With any luck, someone else will review this soon so I know if this story is really any good or if it just appeals to a select group. A wonderful and kind group, but selective just the same._

_Please Review!_


	5. Bitter Fury

_**Author's Note:** Where did everybody go? Gee, I guess that will teach me to call my group selective, it apparently only increased the problem. Still, I do wish to thank CloudxInxCrimson –creepy Erik's are my favorites, as long as I can still pick on him anyway… and Breanna Senese – comment on the plot all you want, any comment is helpful (Read the book yet?). You both are absolutely marvelous!_

_**Disclaimer: **If you recognize any of these characters from Gaston Leroux's famous literary work (it is NOT a work of FICTION!) that means they do not belong to me. If you do not happen to recognize any of the characters within this story, you clearly need to go and read the book from whence they came with the noted exception of the characters that I made up, who do in fact belong to me. If you don't know who is mine and who is his, then you can't sue me anyway. _

_"He is here." Erik_

She screamed at the sudden loss of the melody that soothed her fevered mind and so gently caressed her battered soul. Desperate, she struggled to wake and seek it out as it slowly faded away, but her body was slipping ever deeper into the cool darkness that promised eternal relief from her pains. Yet the pain was worth it if only to hear once more the music from the frozen shadows of the night, which tugged so forcefully at her heart. If only she could hear it once more, then it would be only too easy to slip away into that peace beyond. Crying out against the pain she fought again and again to waken. Again and again she failed, draining her strength with every attempt as the darkness crept ever closer and the night grew ever colder.

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Bera turned to face the stranger who stood beside the sleeping child. He did not understand the man's cryptic comment but he knew in his heart that this walking shadow would not harm the girl. His heart knew, but his mind still feared.

"What do you mean by that sir?" he asked bravely, daring to question the man he feared to protect an innocent. "Are you Death himself then, come to take her away?"

"Bera!" Vadoma hissed as the stranger's eyes glowed ever brighter, burning with dark fire at the young man's insult. "You forget yourself, leave at once!"

"Yes," the man growled, ignoring the old woman. "I am the Nightwalker, bringer of Death, and she will come with me."

"No! I shall not let you harm her!"

"I shall do whatever I please and you can do nothing to stop me. Beware boy, you tempt the fates tonight."

With an angry snarl, Bera lurched forward, ready to kill the man who stood calmly threatening his life and who would take away the lost girl who had so blindly trusted him. Suddenly Vadoma was before him, blocking his path. He tried to shove her away but she quickly slapped him across the face.

"Bera, come to your senses! He will not harm her!" She cried, fear and anger swirling in her dark eyes.

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He knew, from the moment he had seen her, he knew. He would kill this impudent boy before him; he would do anything to prevent this angel, lying so deathly still upon the rough pallet beside him, to return to her God's embrace without having once looked upon her as he dreamed her so long ago. Her shining eyes open in wonder, smiling in the sunlight as she danced in the little meadow nearby, her golden hair a riot of curls down her back, laughing and dancing, around and around, just for him, just as he had dreamed. Anything would be worth seeing this one dream come to life, _anything_.

_**A/N**: Yeah I know it shorter than normal but I've got the next chapter nearly ready to post so with any luck it will be up soon. Get ready for some more creepy Erik and I'm thinking it's about time somebody woke up and joined the conversation, don't you?_

_P.S. I really do need summary suggestions because mine is…terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, and all around crummy. Review and help me out!_


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